Bedtime Stories
by Driftstar-Leader of TreeClan
Summary: He never did tell Mimi what happened to her mother, and he didn't intend to. But of course, when intoxicated, you often say things that you regret. AU, Humanized, Drabble...


It was sleepless nights like these that he would wander the castle's halls, tormented by the nightmares that threatened to overcome his awakened mind. The dark corridors were calm, a great contrast from the raging torrent of unwelcome memories that crashed over him, a wave of utter depression following close behind.

Blumiere stumbled to the refrigerator, opening it and staring blankly at it's contents. After a moment of searching for the item that was sitting in plain sight, he withdrew a bottle of hard liquor, and then removed the glass he always kept next to it. He then headed back the way he came, entering a small room with a few couches, a coffee table and a large book shelf that was completely full.

Setting the liquor down on the table, he collapsed on the couch, sighing a bit dramatically. Just as he finally gathered the strength to pour the first glass, a particularly unsettling memory clouded his mind. Blumiere's body shuddered, but he still managed to get the drink into the glass without spilling it.

This had been going on for quite some time now. It had been about three years since he'd lost _her, _but for some reason these terrible repercussions had started only a few months ago. Maybe it was because he'd been focused on taking care of the children, but he was still doing that now.

Then again, as the children reached about six years of age, they began to wander off and do things on their own; he was left alone for a great portion of the day. He was alone with his thoughts, and his thoughts were not kind to him.

He sank back into the couch, exhaustion dragging him into the abyss of sleep. Sleep was something he tended to avoid, for with sleep came dreams. A shaky hand brought the cup to his lips, and he tilted his head back to let the bitter liquid slide down his throat.

The first glass went down easy, as did the second. As he reached for the bottle to pour the third, he heard a tiny voice coming from the room's entrance. Groggily, he looked up.

"Daddy?"

A young girl appeared in the doorway, leaning against the wall and scuffing her feet. She had pale skin and even paler hair, as well as light brown eyes. She wore a white nightgown that flowed down to the floor, completely covering her feet.

Blumiere sat back again, seemingly exasperated. "Mimi, please," he slurred. "Go back to bed."

The girl shook her head rapidly, her hair swirling around and into her face. She scurried over to him and sat down on the unoccupied side of the couch. "I can't, daddy! I'm having nightmares and the dark is scary!"

He hummed, taking another drink. She was instantly intrigued, and asked, "What's that? Can I have some?"

"_No,_" he snapped, "Absolutely not. Now, _go back to bed_, Mimi."

She fell silent. However, she did not comply to Blumiere's orders, but simply sat up straight with her hands folded in her lap.

Neither said anything for a while. The heavy silence lay thick, but was finally broken as Mimi said, "Can you…" she broke off, suddenly afraid that Blumiere might snap at her again. But he glanced down at her, inviting her to continue. So she went on, this time with more confidence. "Can you tell me a story?"

Blumiere lowered his head, groaning. "I don't know any stories," he mumbled.

But Mimi wasn't willing to be shot down that easily. "Tell me the story of Mama!" she pleaded.

All at once, the man seemed to grow older. His shoulders sagged and his head fell forwards, his eyes losing their brightness and becoming glossed over, spaced out. He put a hand to his forehead, sighing slightly.

Mimi didn't stop there, however. "Mama… Mama's lost, right? A-and, you're trying to find her?"

"No."

Mimi cocked her head, confused. "But… I thought you said-"

"_Your mother is dead_."

The young girl's mouth fell open. She sat, gaping, her eyes filling with tears as Blumiere got up and walked away. He was about halfway across the room when she jumped up from the couch and ran after him.

"No, she's not! You said she was lost! Mama's not dead!" Her voice was hysterical, coming in short, whimpering exclamations.

Blumiere spun around, slapping the girl across the face. She fell to the ground, stunned. He may not have meant to hit her that hard, but even if he didn't, he refused to make any move to apologize. He yelled, "I said, go to bed, Mimi!"

As he turned away she sobbed, heartbroken and overwhelmed by confusion. Her little sniffles echoed throughout the hallway as Blumiere walked on, stone-faced and weary-eyed.

He was drunk enough to return to bed now; to evade the nightmares that would surely haunt him another day.


End file.
